"She is not dull, certainly," he answered. "But she is rather--inexperienced." He dismissed the subject, went home, dressed, and went out to dinner. One morning, a week later, he was strolling through the Doria gallery. He was in a bad humor. There were many people in the gallery that day, but he was not noticing them; he detested a crowd. After a while some one touched his coat-sleeve from behind. He turned, with his calmest expression upon his face; when he was in an ill-humor he was impassively calm. It was Miss Macks, her eyes eager, her face flushed with pleasure. "Oh, what good luck!" she said. "And to think that I almost went to the Borghese, and might have missed you! I am so delighted that I don't know what to do. I am actually trembling." And she was. "I have so longed to see these pictures with you," she went on. "I have had a real aching disappointment about it, Mr. Noel." Again Noel felt himself slightly touched by her earnestness. She looked prettier than usual, too, on account of the color. "I always feel a self-reproach when with you, Miss Macks," he answered--"you so entirely over-estimate me." "Well, if I do, live up to it," she said, brightly. "Only an archangel could do that." "An archangel who knows about Art! I have been looking at the Caraccis; what do you think of them?" "Never mind the Caraccis; there are better things to look at here." And then he made the circuit of the gallery with her slowly, pointing out the best pictures. During this circuit he talked to her as he would have talked to an intelligent child who had been put in his charge in order to learn something of the paintings; he used the simplest terms, mentioned the marked characteristics, and those only of the different schools, and spoke a few words of unshaded condemnation here and there. All he said was in broad, plain outlines. His companion listened earnestly. She gave him a close attention, almost always a comprehension, but seldom agreement. Her disagreement she did not express in words, but he could read it in her eyes. When they had seen everything--and it took some time-- "Now," he said, "I want you to tell me frankly, and without reference to anything I have said, your real opinion of several pictures I shall name--that is, if you can remember?" "I remember everything. I always remember." "Very well. What do you think, then, of the Raphael double portrait?" "I think it very ugly." "And the portrait of Andrea Doria, by Sebastian del Piombo?" "Uglier still." "And the Velasquez?" "Ugliest of all." "And the two large Claude Lorraines?" "Rather pretty; but insipid. There isn't any reality or meaning in them." "The Memling?" "Oh, _that_ is absolutely hideous, Mr. Noel; it hasn't a redeeming point." Raymond Noel laughed with real amusement, and almost forgot his ill-humor. "When you have found anything you really admire in the galleries here, Miss Macks, will you tell me?"